


Venetian Blind

by Slantedlight (BySlantedlight)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:16:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BySlantedlight/pseuds/Slantedlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2009 Picfor1000 livejournal challenge.  1000 words exactly, with the prompt "blue", and the picture as shown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Venetian Blind

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/byslantedlight/pic/002dsqk6/)

He could feel the sun on his skin, the warmth of the air, could smell the water beside them, and it was all blue, blue, blue, the blue of summer holidays, the blue of freedom, the blue of lazing around beside beaches and swimming pools. And Bodie was right there, was a solid warmth and a firm hand on his arm, but that was another colour altogether, deeper, darker, sitting heavily in his stomach, his chest.

Doyle didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for poking the wound instead. "Cowley only meant Skegness."

"Yeah..." Bodie cleared his throat, "But he gave us a whole week off, didn't 'e, and there was me with Foley's Girl burning a hole in my pocket..."

"Was she now? No wonder you 'ad to get out of the country..."

"Oh ta," Bodie said, sounding a bit more comfortable again, "Last time I spend my hard earned winnings on you."

Doyle sniffed, meaning to say something disparaging, but there was salt in the air, and the coconut smell of suntan oil nearby, and really... well, were things that bad, really? He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses instead, tilting his head so that he could feel the warmth of the evening sunshine spread further over his cheeks, across his nose, down his neck, soaking into him, making things _alright_. It had made things alright for the last three days, had let him pretend, imagine, be far, far away.

With Bodie, who was a mate, who had known just what to do to get him through this.

"Step down here," Bodie said, as if he'd been doing it all his life, so that Doyle took the step immediately, and then followed the slight pull of Bodie's hand as they veered left. "Step up again." Stopped. "Right, inside or out?"

_Outside_ , outside where he could pinpoint the sun as it moved across the sky, could hear people and traffic and even birds - the feathered kind - alive and going about their normal business in the world. Normal. "Up to you," he said, "Just point me at a chair and a bottle of Chianti."

"Outside then." Bodie's voice was turned a little away from him - talking to the waiter, he supposed. And Doyle, who could hear a smile in Bodie's words, let himself be weaved at his side through the low murmur of voices, the scrape of meals being eaten, the happy _glug_ of wine being poured, and tried to sit smoothly, _not tentative at all, not him_ , when Bodie pulled a chair out for him, nudged him so that he felt the back of his legs against the seat. 

He'd have pizza. Didn't have to see to eat that, did he? And the wine - this time, on this holiday, he wanted _too much wine_.

"Thought we might drive up to Venice tomorrow," Bodie said, and Doyle blinked. "Only half an hour away-"

"The way you drive," Doyle inserted automatically, feeling his pulse speed up, feeling it pounding at his chest. It felt tight, constricting, as if there was no room for both heart _and_ lungs in his body. Gondolas and glass-blowing and _doges_ and clock towers...

"-and we could probably manage one day of culture out of the seven."

He was doing it for Doyle. Doyle had talked about seeing Venice, all those months ago, back at Christmas it had been, on that obbo job in Walthamstow, half a year ago and more. Fancy remembering that...

He was doing it for Doyle, because tomorrow was the day the doctors promised he'd start getting his sight back, five days to a week, they'd said, and tomorrow was the fifth...

"Nah," he said, taking a long, deep mouthful of his wine, drinking it like water, drinking it to pretend. "Who needs culture when we can lie about on the beach all day?" 

"And you say I'm lazy!"

"Good for you, all those suitcases." He didn't want to go to Venice, not tomorrow, maybe not ever. The world was still nothing more than a blur of shadows and darker shadows - it was hardly going to change completely overnight. Best not to go.

"Come on Ray..."

"I said _no_." 

"You can't just sit around feeling sorry for yourself, you know."

"Piss off."

He imagined Bodie rolling his eyes, pursing his lips briefly in that way he had when he was exasperated but trying not to show it, and he drew his own breath. "Look, it might not happen, alright?" he said, voice steady, "No point lugging me in and out of boats all day if I can't see them."

"You'll see them. Day five." Bodie's voice was determined.

"You don't know that."

"Beach tomorrow then, but the day after..."

So much faith Bodie had sometimes, that it would all be okay, that the world would keep turning. "Might not happen at all," he said, just to be awkward, and then he turned his head away, because he'd not meant to say _that_.

He heard Bodie's chair scraped back, a dull metallic screech and clang against the paving stones, imagined Bodie standing up, stepping away from it all for a minute. From him. He'd come back, because Bodie was a good bloke, but even he needed moments to be free of the _tediousness_ of his partner being blind. 

He jumped when a weight pressed against the back of his chair, when Bodie's fist fell solidly against his thigh in a friendly thump and he closed his eyes when Bodie's fingers spread and remained where they were, holding on to him for balance, for reassurance. It wasn't reassurance he'd ever wanted from Bodie, but it was too late now, oh far too late, for anything else.

And then he felt Bodie's breath against his cheek, a low voice at his ear, a whisper.

"Lug you around anywhere, mate. Any time."

Bodie's hand tightened on him, and the world stilled, sighed, then kept turning. 

Bodie's eyes, he remembered, were blue, deep blue.

 

_February 2009_


End file.
